


i forgot about handfuls.

by onlyeli



Series: the pale kantuna collection [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforus (Homestuck), Dream Bubbles, Kantuna - Freeform, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Shoosh-Papping, Typing Quirks, mitunas quirk is sooo tiring i was like maybe im using too many typos but no he just types like that, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 06:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeli/pseuds/onlyeli
Summary: his expression would be unreadable even if you weren’t so confused by it all, if you weren’t snapped in half at the brainstem, if you hadn’t lost pieces of yourself down every stormdrain and pothole and whipcrack you’d come to pass. ‘Y0U 7H1N1KK 1 W4NT 7H ER 57UCK W1II7GH 7HGI5 5HI17 F0 R 7H 3 R356 7 0F 71M1 3??’





	i forgot about handfuls.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leviathanchronicles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviathanchronicles/gifts).

‘1 KNW0 0YU L1KKW3 H3 R,’ you tell him, spread-eagled over the grass and sore from your feet to your ears. had you fallen? it gets hard to tell, sometimes, when other things are on your mind. things on your mind... balanced and heavy and pressing, like you’re going to drop something. like you aren’t going to be able to hold all of this forever. are you-? your hands are empty. you clench your fingers to check and then tug up a fistful of grass. what are you carrying? could kankri help?

kankri -- with his wide dead eyes and open mouth, like he’s going to start fighting for something. fight you on something. what are you--? kankri who helps you carry-- kankri who-- ‘D0N7 Y0U GFUCK1IIGN D4R3R S4Y Y0U D0NN7 1LL CR4MN Y0UR H34 D 50 F4R UP Y0UR W45743CHU73 Y0ULL 83 5H11717ING 733HT Y0U V3R810E5 L177L3 PR1CK!!’

he looks taken aback by that, at least, though still like he wants to say something. he can wait. he says things all the time and you so rarely get to talk, to hear how you sound past all the fretting and the screeching and the muffling hands that only ever want to look after you. with a lurch, you throw yourself towards him, fingers waving all at once to fan him silent. you don’t think it’s your mind lying when you see his back stiffen. he definitely doesn’t look happy-- or does he? the crease of his brow is so much harder to decipher now, now you’re broken and silly and a little plaything for everyone else to fawn over, for everyone else to look after so they all feel better about being shitty and dead--

‘1M 50RRY.’ you’re taking your anger out on him when, really, he’s not the only one you’re furious with. spitting and screaming at kankri will only feel cathartic for so long -- until you forget it ever happened. until you forget why you were so upset in the first place. is it because they hadn’t believed you? is it because they never learned how brave you’d been? is it because none of them wanted to admit they were wrong? because you were dead, even when you’d tried so hard not to be, because they were acting so hard done by being stuck with you without ever realising you were stuck with yourself, because you’d definitely fallen and you were hurt and everything hurts so much and what were you even yelling about, anyway? 

‘L47UL4,’ you mumble aloud, and then you sit up, ramrod-straight and attentive, head whipping around frantically in search for her. ‘1 KNO0W. I KN0W Y0U L1EK HE3R.’

maybe kankri’s just surprised to hear you so coherent. he blinks. ‘Mituna, y9u kn9w I’m celi6ate. It’s harmful t9 suggest that--’

‘N0 N0 N0 N0 N0!!’ you shove him, then, hard and cruel. from where you are on the ground, it isn’t difficult for him to step back and steady himself. surprise, surprise, it’s you that ends up hurt, the front of your helmet smacking with a nasty clang at his feet. if he reacts, you don’t see, your mouth full of dirt and disgust. you hack it up as you claw at his knees, dragging yourself to all fours and then stumbling to stand. sometimes you forget your height, how you had once towered lean and casual over your friends. they spend so much time looking down at you that you’ve found yourself all too accustomed to being below them.

‘1 D0N N7 8L4EM3 Y0U 5H35 FUCKI1NG H07,’ is what you say, but it feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong in your mouth, in that tone of voice. maybe it’s the dirt. you turn and heave, wipe clumsily at your forked and thrashing tongue and let muddy saliva hang from your fangs in strings until you’re satisfied you’re clean. with shaking hands, you scrub at your chin with your gloves. presentable once again, you shake your sparking head, clear it, try again. latula is beautiful, isn’t she? so bright, so sweet, so much more than your fractured little mind can work with. thinking about her breaks you over and over and over.

is this about her? you can’t remember. you reach to steady yourself on kankri’s shoulder, thinking so hard your knees go weak. if you take pleasure in the way his face contorts in disgust when your wet thumb brushes against his neck, you don’t know. maybe. you’re smiling when you next speak.  


‘M4YB83 Y0 U 5H0ULD 7RY,’ you say. that satisfies you. he says nothing. weird. determined to prove you’re sincere, you bob your chin in a series of tiny little nods, teeth clicking against each other as you release the tension in your jaw. ‘Y34H M4Y83 Y434H!!’

‘What?’ he asks, and you’re struck with a frustration so fierce you outright scream, holler a string of curses until you’re coughing and retching and shaking like a leaf in a storm, like something tiny in a hurricane. you’re so angry. once you’d commanded light and sound and friction with ease and accomplish, and now you can barely string together a sentence. your destruction was unfair and inevitable and you don’t think you’re ever going to be at peace with it, no matter how many times it slips out of the back door of your brain, no matter how many times it crawls under the cover of mind honey and tells you to be still.

the trick with your mind going away is that it always comes back. never for long and never consistently, but always nonetheless.

‘7RY W137TH 7UL1P Y0U 57UPO1D FFUCUK1ING N00KP4N 1 KN0W U FUCK1IING H34RD M3!!’

‘She’s y9ur matesprit, isn’t she? Did y9u 6reak up with her?’

you don’t hate him for sounding hopeful. you don’t and then you do and then you don’t, because everything is wavering and things just don’t stop changing, do they?

‘1 L0V3 H3R,’ you say, and your voice sounds so clear you crow, bubbling with joy and excitement and something that ferments in your chest. a tremor rocks through you and you stumble, straight into kankri, who catches you like he’d been waiting to do it. like he’d helped you before when you were too tired to stand but happy to see him all the same. you wish you remembered what that was like. does he remember? does it matter? would he tell you if he did, if it did, if you asked?

‘Then, why--?’

‘FUCKI1INF L00K A7 MM3!!’ and he does, and his expression would be unreadable even if you weren’t so confused by it all, if you weren’t snapped in half at the brainstem, if you hadn’t lost pieces of yourself down every stormdrain and pothole and whipcrack you’d come to pass. ‘Y0U 7H1N1KK 1 W4NT 7H ER 57UCK W1II7GH 7HGI5 5HI17 F0 R 7H 3 R356 7 0F 71M1 3??’

‘Mituna--’

‘N0!!’

‘Mituna, will y9u st9p?’

you’re about to say something else downright malicious, sink your teeth into him until you can taste candy-red and spit it back in his face, but he reaches forward and, with a touch so light you barely feel it, he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. you freeze.

‘Shush,’ he mutters, still unsure, still wooden and hesitant and still so much like kankri, the kankri that talked you through visions because he could and he wanted to and because you’d listen, still so much like kankri who had walked with you into moirailegience because he trusted and was trusted in turn, so much like kankri who you missed and hated and--

‘1M 50RRY.’

he presses his palm to your cheek, and you sink into him, all limp, all at once. he freezes, embarrassed, probably worried someone will see and talk, because secrets don’t last long amongst the dead.

‘I kn9w.’

‘4R3 W3 C00L?’

maybe it hurts him, hearing the remnants of his friend through this veil, but never being able to push it aside and see if anything is salvageable. if anything is worth saving. maybe there’s emotion in his voice when he answers, but your vision is cracking and you know you’re getting lost again, so you can’t really tell.  


‘Always, friend.’

**Author's Note:**

> pale kantuna is a gift ive been given and im handling it like delicate blown glass. anyways i love them so much hopefully next time i can write sm with all three beforus mutants in because they're SO good


End file.
